Proximity (possibility)
by The Readers Muse
Summary: They stumbled into Tobin by accident almost two months afterwards.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

 **Authors Note #1:** After 6x07 "Heads up" I really wanted some Rick/Tobin, so here we are and once again I have no excuse for myself. This scenario is based vaguely off the end of 6x08 where Rick, Carl, Michonne, Jessie, Father Gabriel, Ron, Sam and Judith try to escape Jessie's overrun house with by disguising themselves with walker guts.

 **Warnings:** This is probably a very au take on what happens after 6X08 so keep that in mind. Deals with aspects of PTSD and depression, mild sexual content, big spoon!Tobin and little spoon! Rick, light somnophilia - possible dub-con elements, mutual masturbation sorta, and a weirdly happyish ending.

 **Proximity (possibility)**

 _ **Chapter One**_

 _Dying is simple. It all just stops. You're dead._

 _The people around you dying? That's the hard part._

 _'Cause you keep living knowing that they're gone and you're still here._

* * *

It was never their intention to leave the others behind- to abandon Alexandria.

But it ended up happening that way.

Like water swirling down the sink, they hadn't been able jam the plug back in fast enough.

So they'd lost it. _Lost people._

People like Jessie, Ron and Sam before they could even make it down the porch steps. People like Maggie, screaming high and hoarse as the walkers brought down the wall platform and sent her falling right into the center of them. People like Mikey, Spencer and Kent getting cut off before they could find a place to ride it out. People like Olivia, calling for help from the pantry, trapped. More people he'd never bothered to know the names of- bleeding, dying, just like he knew they would.

 _But as for the rest? The others?_

 _Well, they'd gotten separated._

They'd seen some of them as they'd stumbled with the milling crowd. Denise and some man he didn't recognize limping off towards the solar panels. Rosita, Eugene and Tara being snuck in through the cellar of Aaron and Eric's house. Windows barricaded for the long haul as the walkers shambled past without noticing. Those that made it out on foot scattered in a dozen different directions, shearing numbers off the herd so that by the time they'd made it to the edge of the massive crowd they were able to drop the act long enough to jam into one of the cars. Flooring it until the walkers chasing them were specks in the rear-view mirror and the only thing any of them could hear was the tick of the low gas indicator and the muted shrill of Judith's unhappy cries.

Days turned into weeks and eventually the part of him that hoped the others had made it withered and died. The terrible part about it was that emptiness was getting to be a familiar feeling.

* * *

They stumbled into Tobin by accident almost two months afterwards.

Finding him alone in the woods, clothing in tatters and smeared head to toe with walker blood. He was half-starved, feral and less than half a second from sinking a hatchet into Gabriel's neck before he realized who they were and dropped it like it'd burned him.

They hadn't even heard him coming.

It seemed impossible considering the man's size, but somehow, he'd spotted them first.

He'd adapted. _Survived._

Before the walls had come down Tobin had told him not to give up on them.

Seems as though he'd been right after all.

* * *

It took nearly two hours to get Tobin to stop looking at them like they weren't really there. Coaxing and almost high with the knowledge they weren't the only ones as Judith burbled, unperturbed in Michonne's arms and Carl tentatively handed Tobin a granola bar.

Still, it was almost like their roles were reversed when it came time to touch. Finding himself stiffening, wary and alert for something that wasn't there on the man's face. Spine razor sharp and promising violence when Tobin turned the hand he offered into a one armed embrace. Coming back down from it in inches as something broke and Tobin was suddenly swaying in place. Murmuring _thank god, thank god_ over and over. Sinking to the ground like his legs wouldn't hold him anymore as Gabriel and Michonne eased him down. Kicking the axe aside, gleaming, forgotten and stained red with the blood of a recent kill as they leaned him up against a fallen log. Trying to get him to focus.

It took a while to get through to him after that. Shock, Michonne assured him. Barely noticing Carl and Gabriel trying to tend to him. Wetting stripes of cloth and washing him clean of the layers of muck and old blood. Looking him over carefully for any wounds or bites before going through his pack and doing a quick inventory. Finding a couple of handguns and a half dozen boxes of ammunition before they helped him up and took him back to the small, backcountry house they'd cleared and claimed since escaping Alexandria.

But even then, Tobin only had eyes for him.

They all comforted him in their own way. Mostly just being close as Tobin drained three bottles of water like breathing. Clearly forcing himself to go slow as they set out a couple cans of sliced fruit and waited. Tired as he was, it didn't take long for Tobin to start talking. Explaining hoarsely that he'd been with Heath and Francine, trying to get Scott out of the infirmary before it was overrun. That they'd managed to hole up with Bruce and his family in Bob and Natalie Miller's house for a while.

They'd kept quiet.

Trying to wait it out.

Only eventually the food ran out.

Eventually they had to try.

Eventually-

* * *

He didn't realize until later how heady that kind of thing was.

To have someone look into your face – despite everything you'd done– and still come out of it liking what they saw.

He'd forgotten what that felt like to be honest.

* * *

"It was being alone that was the worst," Tobin told him a couple of days later. When it was his turn on watch and he walked out into the fall chill and found Tobin already there. Cradling a shotgun in his arms as he stood stock-still on the bottom step of the front porch. Able to see the steam of the man's breath – steady in, steady out – in the clear forest air.

"It's deafening you know?" Tobin said quietly, showing him the line of his back as the hairs on the pale of his neck prickled. Feeling the hint of a fellow predator for the first time as they stayed like that – caught in the moment together. "All the voices in your head?"

Distantly he remembered Tobin had a wife. _Children._

He didn't ask and Tobin didn't offer.

But for the first time he wasn't really grateful for it.

* * *

The silence that followed them around afterwards sang out like a mutual truce to an argument that'd only ever been one sided. Tobin had passed that olive branch a long time ago, but it'd taken until now for him to accept it and understand what it meant.

Because apparently he'd needed all this time apart to take ownership of the fact that out of everyone, Tobin was never going to be the type of person who expected something in return. Who had layers you could peel off and eventually find a lesser man underneath. Most people were like that. They had other faces under their skin. Worse ones. He did. Shane had. But not Tobin.

Funny thing was he had a feeling Tobin wasn't the kind of man to judge him for it.

Even if he had every right to.

* * *

 **Authors Note #2:** Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. – There will be one more chapter, so stay tuned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

 **Authors Note #1:** After 6x07 "Heads up" I really wanted some Rick/Tobin, so here we are and once again I have no excuse for myself. This scenario is based vaguely off the end of 6x08 where Rick, Carl, Michonne, Jessie, Father Gabriel, Ron, Sam and Judith try to escape Jessie's overrun house with by disguising themselves with walker guts.

 **Warnings:** This is probably a very au take on what happens after 6X08 so keep that in mind. Deals with aspects of PTSD and depression, mild sexual content, big spoon!Tobin and little spoon! Rick, light somnophilia - possible dub-con elements, mutual masturbation sorta, and a weirdly happyish ending.

 **Proximity (possibility)**

 _ **Chapter Two**_

That winter was brutal. Chipping in with the kind of cold that left you feeling brittle and light. All blowing snow and sub-zero winds. Days where they couldn't step foot outside of the house because all there was was the roaring white and the promise of a quick death if you strayed too far from the warm house with a fire crackling in the living room hearth.

They weathered it together, sleeping in front of the fire. Drinking weak tea and trying to make their thin supplies stretch. Blankets piled high as they shuddered through it, wondering if they'd ever be warm again. Knowing that sooner or later the storm had to break. That it had to get warmer. Sometime. Somehow. They just had to hold on.

Only it didn't. Instead, one night it got worse.

The last of whatever boundaries remained between them fell solidly as soon as night closed in. Howling down the chimney and threatening to put their fire out as they burned books, sheets, bits of furniture – _anything_. Anything to keep the fire going as the moved their blankets close to the flames and forgot about things like personal space and indecency as they shivered in close. Sharing body heat freely as Tobin settled in behind him and Michonne in front. Making sure Judith and Carl were together between Gabriel and Michonne before they stretched their blankets out between them and settled in to wait it out.

He didn't think he'd sleep. It was just too cold. But he was proved wrong when he woke up sometime during the night to Tobin moving fitfully behind him. He sighed, easing back, pulling the blankets tighter around his head as he listened to the others breathe. It was familiar. Grounding. _Right_. Enough that he'd almost slipped back to sleep when Tobin did it again.

He shifted, blinking. Hair sleep mussed as it feathered down his temple. Basking in the heat as Tobin's large frame kept him covered and almost over warm through the layers. So close that he could feel the strength of the man's chest shifting behind his back every time he breathed.

The feeling it elicited was strange, like the shadow of a word he'd known the definition to once but was now struggling to find as it teetered teasingly on the very tip of his tongue.

He was still trying to figure it out when Tobin let go of a gentle snore and burrowed close. Broaching the last few inches of space between them to press firm against his back. Enveloping him from head to toe as a heavy arm flopped solidly over the arc of his hip. Reeling him in close as his hips started to-

 _Oh._

His cheeks burned, roasting from the inside out like a flash fire as Tobin pressed into him. Hips moving. The rhythm unmistakeable and rolling but stuttered and uneven with sleep. He turned his head, slow and unthreatening until he had him in his sights. Finding Tobin exactly how he figured he'd be. Curled close and deeply sleep, with a small frown wrinkling thin like confusion between his eyes. Completely unconscious but breathing just a bit harder than he should be - _aroused._

He licked his lips, tasting the metallic tang of the cold air as he considered it. There was no question that Tobin was hard. And neither did it take a rocket scientist to know that Tobin wasn't exactly small in that department either. He could feel the warm heat of it pressing against his ass – insistent and blunt.

For a long moment, he just breathed. Trying to unpack how he felt about it as the hand on his hip clenched a fraction tighter. Surprisingly possessive from a man that never seemed to use his full strength on anything, not even walkers. Like the need to be careful because of his larger frame had been drilled to deep for him to completely unlearn.

He knew it was wrong, but an off-kilter sort of excitement rippled through him the longer he thought about it. Coiling like heat in his lower belly at the idea of being used this way. Of giving someone something they needed without any risk to himself or those around him. It was a rare thing, and something inside him _ached_ for it.

This was about wants and needs and what _wasn't_ being met.

About how 'just surviving' takes a toll on you, given enough time.

About what kind of comfort you crave when the sun goes down.

Even if only your body is the one taking the reins.

He breathed sharply out of his nose as he clenched his cheeks experimentally. Firming his stance and giving the man something to rut into. Suddenly intimately aware of the fact that he was painfully hard in his jeans. Cock straining uncomfortably under the layers as Tobin made a low, base sounding purr and hitched into him.

He made a small sound in his throat in response. Involuntary and instinctual as the man's breath hazed warm and moist against the back of his neck. Prickling the small hairs and ending up suspiciously close to a whine as he pressed the ball of his palm against his prick.

This was wrong. He should be moving away. He should be pushing Tobin away and pretending none of this had ever happened. Pretending that he had to get up and take a piss as Tobin woke up slowly and shrugged it off, still not quite awake as the sudden rush of cool air sent him burrowing deeper into the nest of blankets and back into the warmth of the others.

If anything it was _him_ that was using Tobin now – taking advantage. But for some reason he couldn't bring himself to move. There was just something about knowing Tobin was so desperate - _so needy_ – that his still asleep his body was taking anyway.

He shuddered, free hand digging firm into the musk of his pillow as he slipped his hand into his jeans, grasping himself and stroking fast. Muffling the slick sounds as best he could, dribbling pre-cum all over himself before he'd barely finished the third stroke. Already gone with it as Tobin moved enthusiastically behind him – sleep-slow but firm as he locked himself in place and coasted right into the homestretch with him.

He worked himself frantically – furtive. Trying to end this before Michonne or Gabriel woke up. Thrusting brutal-fast into his hand as he added a twist into the upstroke. Wondering what Tobin would feel like. Big hands, big everything. He had a feeling the man had never done anything like that before. He'd probably never even touched another man. It was just a hunch, but then again his hunches were usually pretty accurate. Maybe he'd even wanted to, but all those little things in life had gotten in the way. Society. Family expectations. The closed-mindedness that had been instilled bone deep in their parent's generation only to be passed down to their children like dirty laundry.

 _Christ, what he wouldn't give to just go for it and see how the chips fell._

 _How would it go down?_

 _Tobin was so reserved, polite, careful and gentle-mannered._

 _But what about on the inside?_

 _That had to mean one hell of a-_

He bit down on a groan when Tobin suddenly slowed, hips jerking erratically for a long half-second before stilling, grinding up against his ass for a handful of beats as a pleased sounding hum left the man's throat. Relaxing into him in increments as his climax sent him firmly into the realm of a dead sleep.

He came a few minutes later, biting into his fist and riding the press of his own hand around his cock. Breathing in the man's scent as the warmth seeping from their conjoined bodies grew almost stifling.

It was the warmest he'd been in weeks.

Perhaps in more ways than one if he was being square with himself.

He fell asleep before he could regret it.

* * *

The next morning, he walked into the kitchen and found Tobin staring out the window above the sink. He stopped in the door jam, trying to judge the silence as the frosty pane masked the man's expression. Feeling an unfamiliar curl of embarrassment – _discomfort_ – twisting in his gut as hindsight ushered in and the consequences he'd never really considered from his actions the night before sunk in for the first time.

But Tobin just smiled. Turning around and gifting him with something he knew in his bones he had no right to accept. Nudging the curl of his knuckle towards the cup of instant coffee that was gently steaming on the counter. Smiling small before turning his gaze back out the window to survey the fresh snowfall. Looking but not really seeing as his own mug cooled serenely beside him.

He wondered if that meant he'd had good dreams.

He wondered if either of them even remembered what _good_ was supposed to feel like.

And while the words never quite made it past his lips, as they stood there together, letting the world breathe, he figured that in the end they didn't have to. Instead, he closed the distance slowly. Moving until they were shoulder to shoulder – warm to warm – as the falling white snowed them in. Accepting the low throb of Tobin's pulse as it flowed from his body to his, unconsciously matching, beat for beat, as something that felt a whole lot like peace ushered silently in.

* * *

It took a while longer and more than a few nights like that to realize that the word that'd escaped him back in that room during that awful storm was safety. _Safety._ Tobin made him feel safe. And while he never asked, he had feeling it was mutual.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

* * *

 **Authors Note #2:** Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. - This story is now complete.


End file.
